


meet me among the stars

by kindlingchild



Category: South Park
Genre: Astronaut!Craig, Correspondent!Tweek, Fluff, M/M, angst???, its my first sp fic pls be kind, ooc craig, ooc tweek, they’re like 25-26 in this man they’re Adults now with jobs at NASA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 15:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindlingchild/pseuds/kindlingchild
Summary: Craig Tucker loved space. He had always loved the vast darkness that was sprinkled with stars. But maybe he loved the high-pitched voice that called every morning at seven sharp, just a little bit more.Astronaut!Craig and NASA Correspondent!Tweek (original AU)





	meet me among the stars

**Author's Note:**

> HI I HAVENT FINISHED WATCHING ALL THE EPS OF SP AND I KNOW IM PROBABLY WRITING THEM SUPER OUT OF CHARACTER BUT I LOVE SP SM SO PLS FORGIVE ME
> 
> first timer of sp fics so im sorry TT pls be kind
> 
> this is heavily inspired by ghostystarr’s iwaoi au Phone Home!! their’s is way better TT

People often asked the great Craig Tucker, astronaut extrodonaire, many questions regarding space.

He was infamous for being the cold, deadpanned, mysterious one out of the famous astronaut trio, including him, Clyde Donovan, and Token Black. Jimmy Valmer was usually their top quality correspondent, and kept them entertained too.

“It’s cold,” Craig would say, “Very cold.” The chill of the universe seeped right down to his bones and left him breathless each step that he took— but it made him happy, filled with a light joy everytime he experienced the sensation of the atmosphere beyond the Earth.

“It gets lonely too,” he would also say. Though his answers were short and simple, they couldn’t be further from the truth. An astronaut had to be able to bear the weight of crushing loneliness to survive millions of miles away from any living thing. Craig Tucker had family, and he loved them dearly, but space had been his original love— it always had been.

“It’s really pretty,” was always his last sentence, and it really was. The view of trillions of stars spread across the large, dark sky, accompanied with the view of the whole Earth beneath your feet, it was breathtaking.

Craig didn’t mind being alone. Of course he missed his mom, dad, and sister, but the time alone was nice. It allowed him to think.

It allowed him to think about the universe that surrounded him, about how humanity came to be just from the things around him, about how said humanity has evolved so far in order to explore the worlds beyond their own.

At present, Craig Tucker was a day into his five-month mission in space, observing the Earth and how the climate was affecting the land and general atmosphere of his home planet. His  
main objective was to observe, record, and report his findings to the correspondent that was to call in every morning.

It was Craig’s third and final time in space, the first and second times he had been accompanied by Clyde Donovan and Token Black, on a three man mission to orbit around the Earth and record their observations.

They had gone viral from the videos that Clyde had recorded, including things like juggling everyday food items in zero gravity to multiple random breakdowns by Clyde, the public loved the three of them.

After that mission, interviews were common for the three of them, and during those interviews, Craig was often asked if he had a partner.

He had always found the idea of love quite tacky, if not unnescessary and complicated. He had his share of quick flings and one night stands with the occasional man.

Love would keep him missing Earth, longing for arms wrapped around his waist in an embrace only the other could provide. Being an astronaut meant none of that. Being an astronaut meant being alone.

Currently, it was seven in the morning, Eastern Standard Time. It was time for his morning report.

He sat in his pilot chair, adjusting his earpiece, making the sure the microphone was right by his mouth. He pulled up his notes from atop the control panel, checking once, twice, to make sure the ship’s status was alright before tuning into the right channel.

“Craig Tucker reporting,” he spoke, a finger laid on his earpiece, “Craig Tucker reporting.”

There was a short burst of static before, _“M-Mr Tucker, report clear.”_

This voice was new. It was high-pitched and a tad squeaky, but Craig could easily tell through the miles of radio interference that the voice was male. A new correspondent probably, considering his voice sounded anxious.

“No need to stutter, I’m not going to bite,” Craig rolled his eyes, he had no time for stuttering correspondents. His only objective was to report his numbers and be done with it.

_“Right, s-sorry, it’s a habit. May I have your numbers sir?”_

“Weird habit, huh?” Craig chewed down on his bottom lip as he flipped through his notes, his own habit that he had since little.

“ _Guess coffee does that to you_.”

Craig raised an eyebrow at that comment as he flipped to the right page, scanning his eyes across the page and locating his records for the day. He read them off, and the correspondent thanked him before hanging up, not making another comment about coffee.

Once more, Craig was alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the tenth day, Craig started the conversation with a question.

“Hey, about the coffee remark you made— how much do you even drink?”

_“W-What?”_

“Yeah, you heard me.”

_“M-My parents run a coffee shop in Denver, and they made me test their coffee everyday until I moved over to Orlando. I got addicted, so here we are, I guess.”_

Craig furrowed his eyebrows, intrigued by this mysterious, stuttering correspondent on the other end of the line.

“How the fuck did you end up in NASA?”

_“Coffee’s not my thing.”_

Craig sniggered at that, before reading off his numbers. As he was about to hang up, there was a crackle of static, and the voice spoke once more.

“ _Is space nice_?” The voice asked, the first time the other had said anything non-work related. A first for both of them, Craig supposed.

“I guess,” Craig shrugged, but as he looked out the windows of the ship, at the twinkling sky around him, he realised for the hundreth time that space was gorgeous.

 _“I’d like to see it some day,_ ” the voice sounded disappointed, “ _T-Too bad I can’t.”_

Craig left the conversation there. He said his goodbyes, and hung up.

It wouldn’t be good if he got to close to the correspondent— a mere voice that was his only connection to the world below. There was no point anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the twenty-first day, the correspondent squealed into Craig’s ear, followed by a long string of unaudible words and muffled shuffling.

“Hey, are you okay?”

There was a long pause before the voice finally answered, “ _Fuck, J-Jimmy’s gonna— ngh!— J-Jimmy’s gonna k-kill me!”_

“What happened?” Craig leaned closer to the control panel, squinting down at the Earth below him, trying and failing at spotting the NASA headquarters among the large grassy plains of the American continent.

_“I-I.. I spilled coffee... J-J-Jimmy’s p-papers... ruined...”_

Eithe Craig was having massive hearing problems, the guy on the other end was too far from the microphone, or the connection was absolutely horrid.

“Hello? Hey, calm down.” Craig wanted to laugh, but he knew he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to the new guy.

This had happened before. Jimmy had a sort of magnet for clumsy people, which constantly caused his papers to end up drenched by some sort of beverage at least twice a month. It was a common occurence, and the upbeat data collector would always brush it off with a laugh and print more— unless he had an extra stack beneath his desk, which he usually did.

“Jimmy’s not gonna be mad, trust me. This happens to him all the fucking time,” a small laugh escaped him, before Craig paused, trying to keep the atmosphere professional, “Look under his desk. He’s probably got like three extra stacks under there.”

There was a long pause before, “ _O-Oh yeah, he... he does. Wow. Has this happened before?”_

“All the time. Just clean it up a little, apologise to him later, and it’ll be fine.”

Another pause, and about five minutes later he heard the sounds of a chair wheeling closer to the microphone on the other end, “ _O-Okay, I cleaned it up and Jimmy came back when I finished. He said it was okay and just took out another stack! That’s crazy.”_

Craig chuckled, grabbing his notebook and flipping to the right page, “Do you want my readings?”

_“O-Oh! Yes please, Mr Tucker.”_

“Craig is fine.” He read his listings, and listened as the voice repeated it back to him. Once more, as he was about to hang up, the voice crackled back.

_“Thank you for, uh, helping me back then, Craig.”_

Craig felt his heart tighten ever so slightly.

“Of course.” And their conversation was over with a single beep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the thirtieth day, Craig took a blind leap.

“What’s your name?” He asked, weary of his tone. He was being cautious, he had to be. All he was trying to do was make the atmosphere less tense, less awkward, because it was certainly in a weird place at the moment.

That was what he was telling himself as he spoke.

 _“My... My name? Why do you want it?_ ”

“I’ve been talking to you for a whole fucking month, and I’ll have to for the next four, so shouldn’t I know your name?”

There was a pause before, “ _It’s... It’s Tweek. Tweek Tweak.”_

Craig laughed.

 _“H-Hey!”_ The voice had no malice in it, even through miles of radio transmission, Craig could tell. He had learned to tell.

Tweek proceeded to spell it out, making Craig laugh even harder. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed that hard.

“Don’t worry too much,” Craig said, as he traced out Tweek’s name in pencil, a small word, just in the corner of his notes, “It’s a cute name.”

_“A-A what?”_

Craig froze, dropping his pencil, watching as it rolled off the control panel and onto the cold metal floor.

“Nothing, bye Tweek.”

The beep in his ear was followed by the realisation that Craig was letting himself get too comfortable with this new, nervous correspondent; he was letting himself go, he was slowly letting down his walls.

He was breaking the number one rule of astronauts, and he didn’t want to stop.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the end of the third month, Craig and Tweek had fallen into an odd yet stable friendship. Craig would swear, Tweek would click his tongue at his language. Tweek would panic, and Craig would calm him. Craig would read off his records, Tweek would listen and repeat them back.

Their conversations got longer, deeper, as they settled into the other’s presence, despite being ages away from the other.

“What do you look like?” Craig asked on the ninetieth day, the last day of March, his third month in space.

Maybe he had dark eyes, like the space that Craig loved to get lost in. Craig hoped so.

At this point, Craig had broken his own rule more times than he could count. But, he was retiring already, so he didn’t care.

All he cared about was the voice that called at seven in the morning every day, asking for his numbers.

_“W-What do I look like? Why do you want to know?”_

“You know what I look like, chullo hat and all. It’s only fair,” Craig frowned, anxiously anticipating Tweek’s reply.

_“Blonde, untamable hair. Green eyes. Plain looking. Green button down.”_

_“Which he always buttons wrongly, mind you. Won’t let any of us fix it for him.”_

Another voice spoke into the microphone, and Craig recognised it instantly, laughing softly. How could he not recognise the voice he’d gone on two missions with already?

“Hey Clyde, good to hear you, dude.”

_“Can’t stick around for long, but glad to hear you too man! Stay safe up there yeah?”_

“Of course, I’ll be juggling bananas in zero gravity in honor of you.”

The man on the other end laughed, before he heard muffled shuffling and the voice he had learned to love speak once more.

“ _Sorry, Clyde barged in out of nowhere. Anyway, y-yeah, that’s what I look like.”_ He sounded a bit upset, and Craig smiled into the microphone.

“Is someone jealous that I’m good friends with Clyde?”

_“Fuck you, Craig Tucker.”_

There was a beep, and Tweek was gone. Craig laughed as he felt his face warm slightly.

Tweek didn’t say no, did he?

 

 

 

 

 

 

All his life, Craig was used to not feeling.

He didn’t feel overwhelming joy when he won something, didn’t feel crushing devastation when a family member passed, didn’t feel toxic jealously when someone was better than him.

His only feeling had been reserved for space. It had been saved for the universe that loomed above him, with explorations perhaps beyond human comprehension.

Then a certain blonde-haired correspondent came barging into his life, and he found himself sharing that feeling with another thing, another person, even.

It was foreign, not being able to say “fuck all” at everyone and everything around him with Tweek calling him daily, the same anxious yet excited tone in his voice.

 _“Can I ask you something?”_ Tweek asked on the hundred and eighth day.

“Shoot,” Craig replied as he scribbled down his findings for the day.

_“Why is this your last mission?”_

Tweek always made Craig drop his pencil, a soft “damn it” echoing throuuh the astronaut’s head as he heard the pencil roll to the other end of the ship.

“On our second mission out— me, Clyde and Token— there was a small problem with our engine. I got too cocky, said it was small problem that would take less than five minutes to fix.”

He paused, letting the information sink into Tweek’s brain on the other end. Tweek deserved to know.

“Saying ‘fuck it’, I tried to fix it too quickly and nearly ended up exploding the entire ship, if not for Token fixing the problem last minute. As a result though, I ended up causing the ship to become too turbulent, and a piece of scrap metal went into my stomach.”

A long silence.

“We had to call the mission short. Cost me the rest of my career as an astronaut. I’m lucky Token and Clyde don’t blame me, they should.”

_“I... I’m sorry Craig. I didn’t know.”_

Craig tried to laugh it off, but it sounded more like a sob.

He hated thinking about it. He hated thinking about how a simple rookie mistake cost him his entire career as an astronaut, and that after this last mission he’d be sent back and would work behind the desks at NASA instead of reporting to them.

Craig hated himself sometimes, but he didn’t like to think about it. Hate was a feeling. Craig Tucker didn’t feel.

“They gave me this last mission. They had to cover up my mistake somehow, tell the public that Craig Tucker of the famous astronaut trio was retiring with one last solo mission.”

 _“They’re using you as an advertisement, you realise that, right?”_ There was a sadness in Tweek’s tone that made Craig’s chest ache.

“Yeah, but I got to go to space one last time, and that’s enough for me.”

Tweek hummed in reply, and Craig prepared himself for... something. He didn’t quite know what, but he could feel something big coming.

_“You know, I used to think you were a scary, arrogant asshole. When they told me I was to work with you, I got upset.”_

“You sounded scared when you picked up my call,” Craig smiled into the microphone. Maybe he didn’t need to be ready for what was next.

_“Well, yeah! You’re such a big shot, and I was to work a solo mission with someone who could possibly trash me? Who wouldn’t be scared?”_

“Jimmy Valmer,” Craig chuckled, and Tweek grunted in reply. It was true, Jimmy had worked with them the past two missions and through that, Craig had learnt that the disabled data collector didn’t fear much, and that he was also incredibly brilliant.

 _“Now I think you’re still an arrogant asshole,_ ” There was a large pause of static, and the anticipation was so heavy Craig thought it would kill him, _“But you’re also incredibly talented. The things you’ve told me the past few months Craig, they’ve made me believe in myself like never before.”_

Craig shut his eyes, trying to calm his tightened heart.

_“You’re so inspiring in so many ways, and I’m so glad I got this opportunity to work with one of the most amazing astronauts— no, people, ever. Thank you, Craig.”_

A small tear found its way down Craig’s cheek, and Craig internally cursed at himself for not turning on the zero gravity beforehand.

He hastily wiped it away. A voice had found its way to his heart, through daily radio transmissions.

 _How fucked_ , Craig thought, _but then again what about the world isn’t right?_

“Well, you’ll be having to deal with this arrogant asshole for a long while now, because my desk is gonna be right next to Jimmy’s.”

 _“Can’t wait_ ,” Tweek laughed, and it sounded like the best kind of music. No— it was better than Pandora’s.

“Forty-three more days,” Craig hummed into his microphone, leaning forward and staring down at the Earth, “And I get to hear that laugh without a stupid earpiece in my ear.”

_“What’s this? Craig Tucker? Flirting? How saucy!”_

“Fuck off, Tweek.” Craig found himself smiling.

 He stood once Tweek had hung up, remembering how Tweek wished to see space.

Craig took his phone out of his pocket, standing by the window and holding it up.

Pictures weren’t the same thing, but at least they were something.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“I’ll be there when you land.”_

Twenty-two more days to Craig’s return, Tweek told him those six words.

“You will?” His voice sounded hopeful, because he was. He wanted to see Tweek so badly, he thought about blonde hair and green eyes for days on end.

_“I... Yeah. Yeah, I will.”_

“You okay? You sound unsure,” Craig chewed on his bottom lip once more. Nervous habit, he supposed.

_“It’s just... I want to be there, Craig. I really do. But I don’t want my work to be seen as unprofessional and invalid.”_

Tweek was smart. Their conversations were recorded, and even though Tweek could just delete the files, all anyone had to do was to sit close enough during their conversations to realise that they had surpassed the professional relationship between colleagues.

Their careers were on the line here.

But so were their hearts— or at least Craig’s. He wasn’t sure.

“I... I understand.” Craig wanted to cry. Was this what overwhelming sadness felt like? Was this disappointment?

Craig was kinda glad he didn’t feel. It hurt.

“Just... Answer me one more time. I won’t interfere with your work. If you say no, I won’t pry any longer.”

Craig held a hand to his earpiece, ready to hang up. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten too close. But it was too late, he had fallen.

He had shattered his rule to dust.

_“...I’ll be there.”_

Craig nearly fell off his chair.

“You will?”

_“Yeah. I’m willing to try, if... if you are too.”_

Yellow washed over the blue, and Craig felt light and airy. He couldn’t stop smiling. If this was what fleeting happiness felt like, maybe the pain was worth it.

“Fuck yeah,” Craig yelled, and Tweek laughed into his ear a melody that Craig held close to his heart.

Somewhere inside him, the stone casing around his heart had shattered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the hundreth and fiftieth day, his final day in space, Craig Tucker held a hand to his earpiece with a small smile.

“Tweek, come in Tweek,” Craig threw himself back into his chair, flaps from his blue chullo hat brushing past his cheeks.

 _“I’m here, Tucker.”_ Craig had learned to hear the smile in Tweek’s voice, and it was beautiful. As beautiful as space, Craig reckoned.

“Are you excited for tomorrow, dude?” Craig scribbled down his last few records of the day, his final report as an astronaut. He looked back, out the window at the blue orb that floated below him.

On any other mission, he would have frowned. His last mission, and the last day at that? He would have returned to his family, gotten interviewed, and then worked the rest of his life away at NASA.

But now, he would get to work the rest of his life away at NASA, with a very special correspondent.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

_“Hell yeah, been waiting for awhile right? I made you cupcakes!”_

Craig laughed. “Thank you, Tweek.”

 _“Your welcome!”_ He chirped back happily, and Craig allowed the warmth in his chest to grow, “ _Now give me those last set of numbers, Craig_.”

“It would be my honour.”

 

 

 

 

 

It was May 31st, the hundreth and fifty-first day into his five-month solo mission in space, and Craig Tucker was going home.

As he buckled his space suit, a familiar beep rang in his ear, and the once strange but now familiar voice spoke into his ear once more.

_“Make it back safe, okay Craig?”_

He held his finger over his earpiece, and he could feel Tweek’s worry over the radio. He couldn’t afford to not make it back safely. He had to.

“I promise Tweek, don’t worry,” he brushed it off with his usual deadpanned tone as he strapped himself into the evacuation pod, doing one last check on the ship’s status before locking down the doors.

 _“I’ll be in the control room when you land, but I’ll meet you out back, okay? I told them I’ll drive the shutte over. See you soon.”_ A beep, and his earpiece shut  
off. Craig pressed the final button, feeling the ship begin it’s descent towards Earth, and he shut his eyes and thought of green and yellow.

 

 

 

 

 

The moments that followed after his landing were hazy.

Interviews swarming the ship’s entrance, fans eagerly reaching out to him with gifts and requesting the occasional picture, doctors feeling his arms and checking his blood pressure.

He managed to manuver his way to the end of the crowd, escaping with the help of security to the shuttle behind his ship that would take him back to the headquarters.

Usually, he’d be in the shuttle already, sitting inbetween Clyde and Token, heading back to the headquarters to celebrate a job well done.

But as soon as he turned the corner, he saw a lanky figure leaning against the shuttle, a pink cardboard box in his hands. Any thoughts of the after party dissipated from his mind.

“Tweek?”

The figure shifted, turning his head, setting the box down on the front of the shuttle. The light from the sun dusted the blonde hair that Craig had dreamed of for so many months. 

It was more of a pretty golden, not so much blonde.

“Craig?”

The voice was unmistakable. It sounded even more amazing without the miles of radio interference and static.

Craig felt his bag slip from his shoulder, landing on the floor with a loud thud, as the lanky figure ran over to him, tackling him with a large hug.

The man before him looked up, and Craig found himself staring deep into shining emerald eyes.

They reminded Craig of Earth. Perhaps he was space, with his dark blue eyes, and Tweek was nature, Earth.

They matched.

The rest of Tweek was exactly— no, better, than Craig had imagined. He was tall (still shorter than Craig though), his blonde hair was messy and extremely soft, he learned, as he gently ran his hand through it. Light freckles were sprinkled across Tweek’s pale face, and a light rose dusted his cheeks.

“Hello,” Tweek giggled, and Craig found himself moving before he could think; leaning forward and planting his lips onto the other’s.

Tweek reacted eagerly, wrapping his arms around Craig’s neck and pulling him closer, the space between their bodies closing.

Tweek definitely wasn’t space. Tweek was warm. Tweek was the Earth, and Craig was space, and they had started to revolve around eachother.

“Hey honey,” Craig breathed after pulling away, still kiss-drunk, “I’m home. With a picture of space, ‘specially for you.”

“No you’re not. Also, thank you,” Tweek pushed him away with a grin, walking over to the shuttle opening the door to the driver’s seat. He took the box of cupcakes and waved it briefly in front of Craig before placing in the car, looking back out once he had secured it in its place.

He stood, looking back at Craig with a smile that made Craig melt.

“C’mon, they’re waiting for you.”

Craig shook his head, snapping out of his trance, laughing as he walked over to the other front seat.

They both sat, Tweek turning to Craig as the engine roared to life beneath them.

“Ready?”

Craig smiled. Maybe Earth wasn’t so bad after all.

“Yeah.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

People often asked the great Craig Tucker, astronaut extrodonaire, many questions regarding space.

He was infamous for being the cold, deadpanned, mysterious one out of the famous astronaut trio, including him, Clyde Donovan, and Token Black. Jimmy Valmer was usually their top quality correspondent, and kept them entertained too.

“It’s cold,” Craig would say, “It was very cold.” It was a sharp contrast to the warm body that he woke up next to everyday, with a loud yawn and a sleepy greeting. Both were nice, but he preferred the warmth.

“It got lonely too,” he would also say. An astronaut was never alone. They had their correspondents. As Craig would have learnt, those correspondents could be pretty good company as well.

“It was really pretty,” was always his last sentence, and it really had been. But he had grown to love the freckles spread across pale skin, accompanied by messy golden locks and sparkling emerald eyes. They were a universe of its own.

But as he stood on the podium, his dark blue eyes caught a glimpse of green, he saw the smile that he had imagined of for so long, and he felt his heart tighten.

“But there’s no place I’d rather be than here.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> HOPE Y’ALL LIKED IT PLS LEAVE COMMENTS 
> 
> tumblr: umbraxstaff


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